


Promised Land

by TayBartlett9000



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Gen, The promised land, cloister the stupid, frankenstine, fuchal, the cat people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:11:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8011408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TayBartlett9000/pseuds/TayBartlett9000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cat people prepare to journey to Fuchal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promised Land

Promised Land.

By Tay Bartlett.

 

The slightly  stale air of the filter, so long in disrepair, blew dishearteningly through the small cabin where the cat people sat, heads bowed and eyes closed,   arranged in rows in front of  a grand podium that unlike  everything else in the room, was polished to a mirror sheen.  The lighting, as with the filter, seemed to be failing as time ticked on. The whole ship was quiet, but not peacefully so. The stillness echoed between the row upon row of cat people, male and female alike like the tolling of the bells that ring out during a criminal’s last sunrise.

But the cat people could not be disheartened. They sat in silence, feeling not the crushing weight of the vast emptiness of the ship. They knew not the many millions of light-years that  lay between them and the promised lands. They only knew the exciting temptation of the  wait and the pride that came with the centuries of patient waiting, keeping faith and carrying out the sacred orders.

To the cat people, the air that blew through their cabin carried the sweet scent of their long awaited  victory, and the lighting cast a sombre yet humble glow upon the congregation that waited silently.

Behind them, the door slid open soundlessly, and a few looked up from their reverie. Standing framed impressively in the doorway, light forming a golden  halo around his head, stood the priest. He wore the sacred robes and the sacred hat that shone scarlet in the poor light of the ship. His eyes, yellow and full of ancient wisdom, glowed like miniature suns from a face that was lined with age and adorned with a soft smile. As he stepped further into the dimly lit cabin, he looked round at the congregation, kneeling before the  podium  in studious concentration.

The door slid closed and the priest ascended the podium, moving  forward until he stood in the centre of the small room, gazing lovingly down upon the cat people that knelt before him. He then looked around at the cabin that had been the heart of their world for as long as he could remember.

It was a poorly furnished room, this one. Small tables cluttered the space behind the rows of patient spectators. The floor was covered with the remains of what to a human, would resemble tomato sauce, but to the cat people, resembled the blood that flowed through  their veins. The one thing that stood out in prominence from the room’s other adornments, was the sacred statue.

This statue stood  seven foot high, its stone face  gazing down at the living beings before him with a slightly stupid gaze, the glass eyes  standing out in stark  relief from the face. He wore the holy shirt, the white one stained with Vindaloo sauce and the long dried remains of custard. The hands of the statue were raised to the ceiling as in celebration, a hotdog in one hand and a  donut in the other. The hands, the cat people knew, were holding the ceiling of this cabin up, and had  been holding it up since the beginning.

“Good evening,” the priest  called grandly, his deep voice reverberating around the cabin as he once again took a swift look at his congregation, who’s heads were  again bowed in prayer.  “I have come to you with what is the greatest news in our long and difficult history. I have come to   you, bringing tidings of great joy, joy that cannot be  counted on one’s fingers  or measured in one’s heart.”

The tension within the room seemed to sharpen as the cat people assembled there took a collective breath.

The priest continued. “The arc is now completed. Our centuries of hard work and seaceless searching have finally yielded results my friends. We have kept our faith and respected the grate God Cloister’s sacred wishes, and now we can   walk the path that was assigned us by the grate lord himself.”

Many of the cats looked up, eyes bright with barely controlled anticipation, some unable to believe what they had just heard. Yet none could argue with it. The priest, who had for a long time led them down the rocky road that had been their lives, had worked hard on creating the arc. He had finally completed the  long sought goal to build a vessel that would carry them safely to the promised lands, the lands that the blue hats would never reach.

“We,”  proclaimed the priest, arms wide as if  to embrace the entire hall, “we among the people, know the path that will lead us to the promised lands.” He reached out to a small table next to him on the podium, and deftly lifted the sacred  scroll, unfurling it and preparing to read. “Seven pairs of socks, one shirt, and one  single pair of underware.” He folded the scroll and placed  it gently upon the table once more. “We among our people know what these words mean. They, my friends, are signs. They tell us of the long path through the stars, the path that will lead us to Fuchal. The promised lands that lie many  millions of   miles sunward, the lands that the lord  Cloister spoke of. And once  there, we will be able to carry out the orders that  Cloister left us.”

There was a nod of general ascent among the  cat people present. Everyone knew the orders that  Cloister had left them so many millions of years ago. According to the ancient texts, their destiny was to journey across the universe to the tropical planet of Fuchal. Once there, the cat people would build   an empire of hotdog diners, buildings that would exist only to serve hotdogs, donuts and other bountiful things to any cat who wished to taste  the  succulent dishes. They would run the diners day and night, all wearing the red cardboard hats that would proclaim them as the true believers of  Cloister the stupid.   There, they would remain, living in peace and harmony until the end of their days.

“So my friends,” the priest proclaimed loudly, “we shall journey to Fuchal directly. This ship has been our home for many generations and has kept us safe throughout the existence of our race. I know this.  Frankenstine, the holy mother, was given this wonderful place by Cloister, and he entrusted her to birth our people. And this, she did. She birthed the first people of our great  society, and now we are ready to  fulfil our destiny. Frankenstine   gave us life, and   Cloister gave us our faith and a purpose to our lives, our very existence in this universe.  So let us pray my friends, for a safe journey.”

Every member of the congregation dutifully  lowered their heads and closed their eyes.

“Dear Lord   Cloister,”  intoned the priest, “we ask you for a little more time, time enough to journey across the stars towards the lands that you promised us. We ask for your patience to give us strength. We ask for your  eyes to watch over  us, and your heart to guide us. We ask for safety and security as we embark upon the most important discovery of our people’s history. Most of all, lord Cloister, we ask you for courage. We have not ever been out into the universe and we need your faith and hope to show us the way. Thank you lord Cloister. Thank you for everything that you have done for us.”

The silence stretched on as the prayer ended. Then the cat people slowly rose, hands raised to mirror those of the statue of  God that faced them across the room. They lifted their voices as one and a single word echoed around the chamber.

“Cloister.”

The door slid open and the cat people trooped out in a quiet and dignified fashion, hearts full of pride and their eyes full of tears. For some, the tears spilled over as the emotion welled up within them. They had lived on this cold and empty ship for as long as they could remember, and now, all of that was about to change. In a few hours from now, they would leave the place that had given them birth, to journey across the universe towards the promised lands. All in the name of Cloister.

 Who knew whether their  arc ship would get them there safely. Who knew if their long awaited voyage would prove successful. One fact alone though, rang clear in their heads and glowed with warmth in their loyal hearts.

Cloister was with them, and would guide them where ever they landed.

 


End file.
